Chapter 62.

Grief.

October 2, 2019.

Cristina Yang had changed.

She watched herself steadily in the mirror, like a predator, eyes dilated and heart racing with anticipation. It felt like one of those moments where she was supposed to see something different, so she was trying her best. She was letting the time drag on. She turned the faucet on and off, drinking handfuls of water, wetting cloths and pressing them onto her flushed skin. Gradually, she sobered, and the terror of the morning rolled off in waves.

It had never been like this before.

When she was away with Teddy, a lot of things had contributed to her drinking. She was losing patients left and right in impromptu medical trials. She was uncertain of herself as a doctor and as a mother and wife. It always felt like the world was caving in – every second, every day. But that constant pressure did not follow her home. Specific moments would bring it back, but it would eventually leave – and she would end up feeling ashamed.

She felt that now.

And some other things, deeper things. She worried that the rest of her life would be marked by periods of stress followed by the bottom of a bottle. It felt like something too powerful to think through – that morning, when they took Henry to the hospital, there was no fighting it. How was she supposed to fight that?

And so, the person in the mirror looked weaker, more exhausted. She was overworked. She was tired in a different way than she had been when she was young.

Cristina began to pick up the pace.

She brushed her teeth, forcing her arm to move. It felt like she was working with weights on her limbs. She drew a cold washcloth over her face, just to wake up.

Only hours ago, she had been lying beside Owen in bed.

It was time to go.

Cristina was starting to feel like herself again. All the little things that made her strong clicked into place. She would find a way to fight her relapses another time – right now, she had somewhere else to be, something important to do.

"I called you a taxi," Meredith said, when Cristina emerged from her bedroom fully dressed in borrowed clothes.

Cristina sunk into the couch beside her, letting Collin crawl into her arms. "Thanks."

"I love you, no matter what," Meredith said, linking an arm into hers. She was warm, inside and out. Cristina leaned into her touch. No matter what. It was a promise that resonated.

Cristina whispered, "I don't know what I would do without you. I really don't."

"You don't have to find out."

She smiled, but the expression faded, "Is… um, Derek still at the hospital?"

"Yeah. He loves you, too."

A car honked outside.

Cristina slid her son off her, gently pushing his hand away when he tried to grab her. He was afraid and nothing that happened today made sense, but she didn't have time to explain it to him. She just kissed his head and left him there with Meredith.

It was a quiet ride to the hospital, and it was raining when she arrived.

Cristina walked through the emergency room doors, a shiver jolting her awake. Derek was standing by the reception desk – Meredith must have called him.

He saw her and came over.

She expected him to say something about her disappearing, but he just put an arm around her shoulder and said, "Come on." He waved off a few approaching doctors, friends and colleagues, and took her through to a private waiting room.

Owen was there, sitting alone.

He stood up when they came in. His eyes were wet and red.

"Where were you?"

His tone was full of fear and pain, like a little child who had lost their mom in a crowd.

Cristina put her arms around him, feeling him shake. He had been so strong at the house, so decisive. But now that strength was crumbling. Cristina had been the opposite. She felt stronger now than she did earlier.

They were dealing with grief in different ways.

Maybe they both knew, somehow, that Henry wasn't coming home this time.